


Never Stopped

by mushembra



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Blind Character, Disfigurement, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, I ADORE THEM, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Post-Overwatch, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Reaper76 - Freeform, Reunions, and so in love, they are both so gay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-04
Updated: 2016-07-04
Packaged: 2018-07-19 23:35:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7382074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mushembra/pseuds/mushembra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was never supposed to be like this. Jack and Gabriel were supposed to be in this together to the end, but the end came sooner than either of them thought it would.</p><p>That is, until Soldier: 76 and Reaper have an encounter, and they find that perhaps, it doesn't have to be the end, but a new beginning</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never Stopped

**Author's Note:**

> I'M IN REAPER76 HELL!  
> Not sure how I want to characterize and headcannon things quite yet, but I hope this first attempt is ok  
> I wanted something hurt/comfort because there's a loooot of rape and non-con fics out there for these two and it makes me so saaaad...  
> So here you go, something a little sweeter  
> Sorry if my writing is choppy and all over the place  
> Took me forever to write this and I'm still not happy with it buuuut...here it is anyways
> 
> Written in both of their perspectives. Reaper's sections are bolded for convenience in discerning the two

It was never supposed to end like this. It was never supposed to end. They were supposed to be together in this until the end, into the unforeseeable future. Overwatch was supposed to be just what the world needed, during the Omnic Crisis and beyond. They were supposed to be the heroes this war and crime ravaged world needed, a guiding light for people to look towards in times of desperation. They were supposed to be a symbol of hope. Overwatch was never supposed to fall apart at the seams, cleaved in two from within, prove to be another statistic, that greed and the dark hearts of men could destroy even the best of things. But most of all, he had never imagined the man he looked up to, held so dear to him, would be the one to throw it all away for reasons unknown.

Jack Morrison lay gravely wounded amidst the rubble, buried beneath concrete and steel. He had half a mind to let this ruin become his tomb. His heart felt so numb, such a sense of defeat flooding through him that he hasn’t felt since his early days in basic training. But unlike then, where there was Gabriel Reyes in his life to pull him out of the mire and give him the confidence and resolve he needed to push through, to become the proud and strong soldier that was the bane of all who faced him, he was now utterly and completely alone. Alone in this ruin, struggling to breathe, body searing with the pain of his injuries. Burns, bruises, broken bones, and god knows what else. Judging from the severe physical pain he was in, even if he did bring himself to dig out from beneath the rubble, it’s possible he would succumb to his injuries regardless, before he ever had a chance to find medical help. And honestly, he wasn’t sure he’d mind if he were to perish by either means. Perhaps this is right where he belonged, buried to death, the sting of betrayal hollowing him out until his final breath.

But it was the betrayal itself, the thorough nature of Overwatch’s dismantlement, that brought something more primal and angry forth within Jack’s breast. This was not how it was to end. Not like this. Not with so many questions left unanswered and the world placing blame on Overwatch for some unseen wrong-doing. As Strike Commander—rather, ex-Strike Commander—Jack refused to pass from this world without making some sort of effort to find the truth. Someone was going to face judgement for this. Whether it be trial by jury, or trial by fire, someone was going to suffer the consequences. And if no one else was going to get to the bottom of this conspiracy, he would. Adrenaline now pumping through his veins, Jack heaved his broken body out of the rubble and into the dusty ruins of the headquarters, leaving behind his life as Jack Morrison. The world would hear the news of his death, and dead is how he’d rather stay. There was nothing left of that life worth going back to.

\-------------

It was never supposed to end like this. Soldier: 76 had worked so hard to uncover the truth, going so far as to break into the very watchpoints and headquarters he used to call home to find something, _anything_ , that would shed some light on what happened. There had to be something. A correspondence that was never deleted, indications of who had access to the systems and files during the months before Overwatch’s downfall. But he had found nothing, and now he sat bleeding out against a wall in some rundown part of town with the shadow of death looming over him. The Grim Reaper had come, levering two shotguns down upon him without mercy. He put up quite the fight, but his stiff, scarred, aged body just couldn’t keep up with the seemingly supernatural force he was fighting against. Reaper was the end of the road, and the end of his life. He’d made a good run of it, but he knew he had already been living on borrowed time. It could only last for so long

A gravely and inhuman laugh echoed from behind the mask concealing the creature’s identity, one of the shotgun’s nudging at 76’s cheek to turn his face, the man’s gaze fixing to the ground.

“Death walks, and I am its messenger. Pity, I thought I’d have a challenge for once. Sad thing is, you were just in the wrong place at the wrong time, Soldier. You’re not my target.”

76 let out a snort, amused the beast was indicating that he should feel so honored to be anywhere near close to being a worthy opponent for him. He felt light-headed, the adrenaline that fueled his fight draining away into a bone deep exhaustion, and he could feel the blood seeping into the shirt beneath his jacket from the deep wound in his shoulder. Fucker got him good, that’s for sure.

“Someone had to give it a go at stopping you. Ngh…can’t let a terrorist…have free reign to do as he pleases.”

“I’d say nice try old man, but it was a wasted effort. I am death, and you can’t run from death forever.”

The creature pressed his shotgun to 76’s temple now, keeping him good and vulnerable as he knelt down before the man, who could only weakly attempt to shrink back against the wall, wincing at the aching, sharp pain radiating through his shoulder. His vision swam behind the visor, painting the world in a wavering shade of red. He could taste bile at the back of his throat, a cold sweat dripping down from his brow. All instincts told him to fight back, but he had no fight left in him.

“It amuses me how much a man can change once he realizes it’s all over. Look at you…pathetic…nothing but a useless husk. It…disgusts me. I doubt a soul would even miss you when you’re gone of this world.”

Reaper had him beat there. For years now he’s been on the run, searching for answers, trying to escape the past, and he’s come no closer to either one, no matter his efforts or brutish tenacity. The years have only served to harden his heart, allow the pain to burn away all that remained of Jack Morrison. No one knew he was alive. He’s made no contact with the surviving members of Overwatch, and he never intended to. He’d much rather remain dead than face them, come to terms with his spectacular failure. He should have seen it coming. He should have listened to the warnings and seen the signs that were right there in front of him, plain as day. He should have listened to Gabriel. But that was another life, one that was long gone and surely forgotten by most.

76 was startled from his thoughts when a clawed, gloved hand reached for his face. The man jerked away, shuddering at the sudden rush to his head. He had to choke back the vomit that nearly came up.

“Ah, ah…I always look a man in the eye when I kill him…I want to watch the life drain away from your eyes when I leech it away from. You…will make me stronger…you should feel honored, Soldier. Never have I feasted on someone so…worthy.”

“Not…a chance in hell.”

A heavy booted foot came crashing into 76’s arm, pinning it with a sickening crunch that forced a pained scream to rip from his throat.

“I don’t think I was asking for your permission. Give it up. Give in to your fate. Death has found you, and your days of running are over. Now…let’s see that ugly mug of yours…”

Utterly defeated with not an ounce of fight left in him, 76 resigned, and with quick hands, Reaper removed both visor and respirator, leaving the man feeling naked and exposed with nowhere to hide and no will to run.

\------------

**It wasn’t supposed to go like this. None of this should have happened. Not a damn bit of it. He had taken up the mantle of leading Blackwatch under Jack’s insistence if he were to be Overwatch’s new Commanding Officer, though he had done so with great reluctance. And for good reason. He had never been cheerful or optimistic, but he had seen enough death and strife for one lifetime. If he could do something to change things, to fight for the people no one else was willing to, then he would gladly lay down his life for that cause. But leading Blackwatch served only to show that even heroes with the best of intentions could do grim things in the name of justice. The hit squads, the dirty politics, corruption within the ranks. The things he did. They became a burden he could no longer shoulder. He became hardened, distant, and sinister influences convinced him the only way to weed out those who would destroy Overwatch, is by destroying it before that could happen. In the end, he not only played the biggest role in finally bringing Overwatch to it's bitter end, but he destroyed himself and the man he loved in the process.**

**Under the alias Reaper, he has made it his mission to eradicate the surviving members, to make sure there was no chance of it rising from the remnant ashes. There were few left to dispatch, and his condition gave him a pretty admittedly unfair advantage. His targets seldom saw him coming, and they barely put up a fight. Soldier: 76 had been surprisingly different in that regard, though the poor bastard merely fell prey to being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Reaper needed a strong soul to feed on, and here he was, the mysterious vigilante himself. He just wanted to get one good look at the old geezer before stealing away his life force. He wasn’t prepared for the face he’d be met with that had been concealed away.**

**Jack Morrison was far from the young man he used to be, face marred by large, deep scars and wrinkles. There was a sort of likeness still there of the handsome, strong young man that he used to be, but the years, stress, and emotional pain had not been kind to him in aging. His once vibrant eyes were now milky, half-blind, and gazing off in the distance somewhere beyond Reaper’s head. There was no smile. No demeanor of confidence or pride. He looked thoroughly beaten and defeated. Tired. Much too tired to keep up the fight. It was almost as if there were nothing of the Jack he had known so many years ago.**

**“That’s…not…possible. It can’t be. Not…you…”**

**Reaper had been prepared to kill anyone in this world. Anyone because Jack Morrison no longer existed in it. This had to be a trick of the eyes. How long had it been since he fed? This had to be in his head, delusion from that insatiable hunger or the madness that had consumed him since his rebirth. There was pain. There was sadness. But strongest of all, there was anger. Anger that someone would have the gall to steal this man’s face. There was no other explanation. This was a trick. That’s all it was. Some sort of trick to bring down his defenses. And he would not be toyed with. The creature let a bestial roar rip from his throat, steel claws biting into 76’s shoulder while the other hand grasped tightly at the man’s throat.  He let out a sputtering choke, weakly tugging at the offending arm in front of him, though there wasn’t real effort put into the struggle. Not that he could make it even if he wanted to. Reaper was much too strong, and he was beginning to succumb to his injuries.**

**“I know not who you work for, but know this; their little ploy isn’t going to work.  So sad you won’t be waltzing yourself on home to tell them personally.”**

**“Wh-what…are…you…”**

**Reaper could see the man’s face starting to go red, veins popping at the temples. It should have been easy. Reaper should have had no problem doing away with Soldier: 76. But that was only part of who this man was. Because the longer the creature gazed upon that tired and damaged face, he knew it really was Jack. There was a new pain bubbling up, a pain different from the chronic pain that plagued his unnatural body. His cold heart throbbed in his chest, and it took effort for once in many years to keep a hold of his composure. His grip on the old man’s throat loosened before his hand fell limp at his side. It’s been so long. Too long. He never thought this handsome face would grace his eyes again, and yet here he was, a phantom, just the same as he was. Just two ghosts trying so hard to escape the past.**

**“Don’t…tell me you had…a change of heart…”**

**76 let out a raspy cough, slumping ever so slightly forward, and surprisingly Reaper braced his other hand against the old man’s chest, catching him before he could fall. He could sense the confusion from how the broad chest tensed under his touch, body trying to arch away in a vain attempt to put some distance between them, as if the creature’s very hand caused him some great offense.**

**“Morri…”**

**That name. It was a name Reaper had used as a term of endearment before things soured between them. And he knew it would give away just who he truly was, who he used to be. That was the idea, anyways. Seems it worked, because 76’s face went momentarily blank before realization and shock lit it up, mingled with a twist of pain that made the creatures heart ache. Funny, he hadn’t been aware he still had heart enough to feel such a thing.**

**“Gabe? It…it can’t…be…”**

**76 fell forward completely, his body finally succumbing to his wounds and exhaustion. Reaper was glad to be there to catch him, though having the man that he used to love so dearly—no, that he still loved so dearly—wrapped tightly in his arms made the ache grow stronger. It’s not a feeling he wanted to experience again, not now that he was a beast of shadow and rot. He had no room in his heart for sentimentality, yet he couldn’t find it within himself to dispose of the man as had been his intention only moments ago. He just couldn’t distance himself from his memories of Jack.**

\--------------

He didn’t want to wake up. Everything in his body seemed to hurt; the wound in his shoulder, the bruises that blotched all over his body, his joints, degrading over the years as he aged. 76 would have bet he was developing arthritis, but it wasn’t worth bothering with treatment. Now that his pain fogged mind was able to focus for longer than a single moment, he had to wonder why he was still alive at all. The last thing he remembered, he was in a fierce fight with death itself, Reaper. Reaper…no…Gabriel. No, that just couldn’t have been true. He had to have been hearing things.

_Morri._

One man had come up with that little nickname for him. It started as a teasing jaunt, then it was used as a name between friends, then it became an endearing pet name. One man came up with it, and only one man ever used it.

_Gabriel._

“GABE! GABRIEL!”

76 shouted the name desperately before he could stop himself, and he would have been embarrassed by the outburst if he weren’t so panicked. The man heaved himself upright, momentarily forgetting his injuries, but the swift movement made his head rush, a sickening feeling dropping into the pit of his stomach. His blurred, near blind vision swam without the aid of his visor, blacking out for a moment, tipping his balance and sending him crashing to the floor. Rather, he would have fallen to the floor, if it weren’t for a swift pair of arms catching him, holding him tightly.

“Whoa there, Morri. Better rest those old bones of yours. Not nearly as spry as you used to be.”

76’s ears were met by Gabriel’s raspy voice, harsh yet with a hint of softness, as if trying with great difficulty not to startle the man any more than he was certain he already has. This was a shock for the both of them, but the injuries certainly weren’t helping him cope with any bit of grace. A black figure with a white mask met his hazy vision, strong arms carefully supporting is weak, tired body. It really was him. He almost still couldn’t believe it, but the pain kept the man grounded to this bizarre reality. Grounded as much as he could be, because as the realization started seeping in ever deeper, the years of pain, grief, guilt, and loss finally caught up with him. He couldn’t stop the onslaught of emotions he’s tried so desperately to outrun. He couldn’t stop the hot tears forming in his eyes, the panic and relief so overwhelming that it left him gasping like a fish out of water, wishing badly that he had the respirator attached. Shaky hands traced over the mask concealing Gabriel’s face, gripping at the edges to lift it, but 76 stopped the moment he felt the other man tense around him.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you. I’d rather you remember me…as I was. Not to think of the monster I’ve become. Knowing…it won’t ease your mind.”

“Let me decide that for myself, Gabe. I’m not a youngster anymore…don’t need you protecting me.”

Regardless, 76 almost heeded the warning, considering he was a damn near mess as it was, on the verge of an absolute meltdown. Gabe let a bare thumb wipe away a few tears, and christ his skin was cold, the pad shriveled and calloused. Nudging his face against the hand, he felt that the rest of it was also cold, the once rough yet comforting skin shriveled and flaking away. It didn’t help the panic rising up in the man’s throat. It felt what he imagined a decaying corpse would feel like, and a sickening shudder rippled through his body.

“Gabe, wh-what…happened to you?”

“Death, and an unnatural rebirth. I’m not the man…you used to know. I’m not a man anymore at all. I’m…a monster.”

There was a sadness in the echoed voice, the forehead of the mask pressing against 76’s, seeking comfort in contact despite the barrier of his mask keeping them apart.

“Are you…saying they…brought you back from the grave?”

“Precisely…”

So he had been dead. That was the point of breakdown. He had actually lost Gabriel. He had taken his final breath in that horrific battle, the battle that had destroyed everything, taken all that 76 had in his life. The man choked on a sob, moving quickly enough to catch Gabriel off guard and snatch off the mask, trembling hands now roaming the face he could barely see as a deep grey blur. His cheeks were sunken in, lined with deep scars, skin tough and sloughing off, enough to expose underlying muscle in some places. There was a piece missing from the tip of his nose, and fingers grazed over bone at the man’s teeth, an open gap exposed in his upper lip. This was not the face he remembered holding in his hands in those rare intimate moments alone, that he remembered admiring and loving with such reverence. This was the face of the living dead, the face of a man suffering to live a life devoid of light and peace, and yet, this was also still the face of Gabriel, no matter how much the reality hurt him, no matter how much he has changed. His poor, dearest Gabriel.

“Oh Gabe…”

76 couldn’t stop the crying that overtook and shook his broad frame. He grasped tightly at the front of Gabriel’s cloak, sobs and broken apologies tumbling from his lips. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t think. He couldn’t do this. 

\------------------

**Broken, defeated, these were not words that should have ever described Jack Morrison, but they were the only ones that came to Gabriel’s mind as he held the sobbing man tightly in his arms, chest heaving in a desperate search for air to fill his lungs. He knew it would be too much for him to handle right now, given the state he was in physically and mentally, but he was always so damn pushy and stubborn. It was hard to watch, hard to stomach. It made his hatred for that bitch who had the gall to do this to him all that much stronger. He’s gotten used to the chronic pain and other downsides over the years, he could handle enduring the consequences of a blind woman's decision to stroke her own ego, play God, and spare his life when it was already long gone. But seeing Jack so heartbroken over it, blaming himself; it wasn't his damn fault, and he shouldn't have to be suffering such guilt because of her. Oh if he ever set his eyes on her pretty little face again...**

**“Morri. Jack. Look at…”**

**Right, he couldn’t look at him. That was going to take some getting used to.**

**“Morri, come on now, you know damn well I’m not good at this stuff.”**

**Regardless, Gabriel kept Jack good and close, safe in his arms, letting a low grumble build in his chest that grew in volume amid the din of crying. It used to always soothe him when the panic attacks hit. Something about the deep tone and the vibration in his chest, and it seemed to be working, at least to a degree. Jack was finding a steady rate of breathing unaided by the respirator, even if a little wheezy, though the desperate way in which he grasped that cloak was a telltale sign that he was right on that edge of being shoved right back over into the abyss again. So shattered, so fragile. When had he become so fragile?**

**“Oh come on, old man. I’m right here. I’m not going to vanish on you.”**

**“Not sure I can trust that, Gabe. Always were better at running.”**

**Ain’t that the truth. It was certainly easier than confronting the problems right in front of his face. But he was sick and god damn tired of running. Gabriel could run all he wanted, but it never eased his mind of the horrors that followed him like a shadow ever since that day. It has been nothing but absolute agony, his own personal hell without reprieve, wishing for the sweet release of death. How could death find you if you _were_ death? But finally, it seemed his luck could be changing, and who would have ever thought it would come in the form of someone presumed dead, nothing but a far off memory?**

**“Morri, I need you to listen to me, and make damn sure those ears are open. You weren’t always the best at listening, but if there was ever a time in your life to listen closely, it would be now.”**

**Gabriel tilted up Jack’s face to peer into those milky eyes, letting his thumb wander over the deep scar that split down the man’s face. The tears were starting to run their course, and the poor bastard looked absolutely exhausted, right down to the core, like he used to after a particularly difficult mission. The memory of spending long nights holding a distressed Commander, shouldering the burden of the brave men and women they had lost, made a soft smile tug at his ruined lips. To his very center, Jack was still that resilient, bone headed soldier Gabriel had grown to love over the years, astounding given all that he’s been through. He may have lost pieces of himself, but he wasn't beyond salvaging.The man further relaxed into Gabriel’s touch, allowing his eyes to close. He was getting dangerously close. He should vanish, right now, before it was too late. Before he could no longer turn away from Jack. Before it became too painful to bare parting.**

**“This whole mess…this isn’t what I wanted. You were just so naïve. You believed so much in Overwatch you became blind. Blind to what was going on behind the scenes. See, leading Blackwatch, I saw it every damn day. The things we did for the sake of “saving” people…it wasn’t worth it. Not a damn bit. We were hurting just as many people as we were saving, if not more. Hey, no, no…”**

**Gabriel could see how Jack tried to turn his face away, trying to hide from the truth the man is sure he has gone over in his head over and over in the last couple of years. He could see the pain, he could see the guilt, but he didn't want to confront it. He would have none of that. Jack needed to face the truth head on; it was beyond time for him to do so. He kept the man from shrinking away, no matter how hard he tried. He took the old man’s face in his hands, those pale cheeks splotching red from all of the crying. What Gabriel would give to just take this all away.**

**“Come on, stay with me on this. You need to digest it. You’re not the only one at fault here, that’s not what I’m saying. I should have come to you a little stronger with this, but I didn’t. I didn’t want to ruin the whole being Commanding Officer for you. Guess for my part, it wasn’t very smart. But hey, I’m a sucker for someone from humble beginnings rising to the top. I thought hell, if I can lead the most formidable secret ops team in the world, then I can deal with this. Didn’t consider I had already bitten off more than I could chew.”**

**Gabriel’s expression withered, face mirroring the same look of exhaustion Jack’s had.**

**“Those damned experiments built us stronger, more resilient. But that really only applies physically. I hadn’t considered that everything I'd done, the things I’ve seen…they had been degrading my mental state for a long time. I didn’t want to see it because a capable soldier isn’t supposed to be weak. I needed help and I didn’t get it. So I fell, and I fell fast and hard. I saw enemies in every corner, in each of the people I used to trust, including you. Nowhere, no one…was safe.”**

**“Oh, Gabriel…why…I didn’t know…”**

**That was because Gabriel had done his best to hide his condition from his beloved. It started with shoving Jack away, creating distance by digging into his work with Blackwatch. It was always another mission, more recon, anything to stay away. The paranoia had become all consuming. He could be betrayed by anyone in Overwatch at any moment, greed and the lust for power consuming their every desire, but it was Jack’s betrayal he started expecting and fearing the most. The PTSD and anxiety wrecked his mind, destroyed all that Gabriel was from the inside out. All that was left was a shell, a shell of the man who had joined Overwatch to save the little people no one gave a shit about in the midst of the crisis, and the fact that he let it happen, that he didn’t get the help he needed when he should have, that guilt would sit in his gut for the remainder of his indefinitely long life.**

**“Morri, I should have…”**

**The frustration and loss for words left Gabriel’s mouth dry, and he could feel the emotional distress starting to affect his ability to hold a solid form. Wisps of dark smoke started to emanate from around the two men, the solid weight of Jack’s body becoming more of an illusion as the feeling in his nerve endings flared with intense pain, then lost all feeling, unable to perceive the world around him. The darkness and pain in his heart left him without strength or will to remain. All he wanted to do was flee. This was a mistake. He should have left before Jack ever woke up.**

\----------------

He was fading. Gabriel was starting to fade away, and Jack could feel the panic and the sobs threatening to spill back over.

“Gabe? Gabriel!”

“Jack, it was never supposed to be like this. I only wanted to stop this before Overwatch became a force no one could handle. You were never supposed to get hurt. Not you. Anyone but you…”

Jack could feel the once solid form starting to slip away, putting him right back on the edge of hysteria at the thought of having to lose his lover again. He couldn’t let Gabriel leave. Not now that he knew he was alive. No, it was not going to end like this. If it was never supposed to be like this, then it didn’t need to be, not anymore. Not now that they had a chance to rewrite the ending. Feeling desperate to make his intentions and desires known, Jack took firm hold of the face slipping through his fingers, then pressed his lips against the other man’s hungrily. Gabriel recoiled for a moment, a sad sound passing through his teeth, but with the old man’s insistence and another crudely planted kiss, he found himself pressing back in return with his damaged lips, fighting down the sense of insecurity to focus on Jack’s comforting warmth. They were different, yet so familiar, and the intimacy grounded him back to the plane of reality.

Having something solid once more to latch onto, Jack fisted his hands into Gabriel’s cloak, tugging their bodies flush together, kissing with a passion and desperation of a man absolutely starved for contact. Which, if he was being truthful with himself, he really was quite starved and in need. Being on the run for years, flying solo; it had never been Jack’s style. He’s been able to deny himself solely because the one soul in this world he needed and craved was gone. But now…

“Morriiii…you’re ruining the moment…hey, hush now.”

Gabriel gently pulled his lips away, which was responded to by a keening cry, but to Jack’s relief there was no move to put physical distance between the two of them. In fact, the man held him even tighter, rocking them both in a gentle sway, a motion familiar to him on some of his worst nights.

“Come on, breathe in, and breathe out. Hmph…this is just like that first mission we went out on after tech school. Remember that? Your first kill? I thought you were going to hyperventilate yourself into a seizure”

Jack managed a strangled laugh, pressing his tear-stained face into the man’s chest, despite all the gear getting in the way and making it a bit inconvenient and uncomfortable.

“You were pretty determined to become a model soldier, but you were a lousy greenhorn. Didn’t think you stood a chance in hell being so wet behind the ears when it came to violence. Thought you were too soft. Proved me wrong after a while and you know what? Was pretty damn proud to be your mentor. You know, once you stopped bawling after every damn time we got back to base.”

Jack slapped Gabriel playfully on the arm, giving an exaggerated roll of the eyes, but that laugh was just what he had needed. Without even realizing it, his breathing had started to steady, and the rampant slamming of his heart against his rib cage was finally starting to normalize. Gabriel always knew how to steady him when he started to falter, and it had been one of the things he’d missed the most over these long years. He couldn’t help the small smile that pulled to his lips, feeling the fatigue starting to take hold once more, which apparently wasn't lost on the other man.

“There’s the bonehead I know. Now come on you old fart. I think it’s waaaay passed someone’s bedtime.”

“Can it you ghoul. You’re five years my senior, so that must make you an older fart.”

An amused snort, then suddenly Jack was being scooped up in a pair of sturdy arms, though Gabriel was careful not to make him dizzy from the sudden movement.

“Got me there, but I don’t need to sleep. You on the other hand look like you haven’t slept in far too long. I don't need to start scolding you again about not taking care of yourself, do I?”

Sleep was just what he needed, but the last thing that he wanted. Jack feared that he’d wake up alone, Gabriel slipping out while he was deep in slumber.

“No…you let me worry about me, and you worry about you…”

“Not gonna happen, Jack. But how about a compromise. I’ll keep you right here with me, at least until you wake up, if that will get you to stop being so stubborn. Scout's honor. I won't go anywhere. Deal?”

A mere grumbled reply. Jack didn’t really want to give in, but he wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep himself awake. Besides, sleeping in a safe pair of arms sounded really nice right about now. Nicer than anywhere he’s slept in a very long time.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

Jack could feel Gabriel lowering himself down onto a creaky old couch, situating himself so they were both good and comfortable. The old man snuggled down deeper into his arms, a sigh of contentment escaping his lips. And damn he just couldn’t stop smiling; one of those signature, lop-sided smiles that used to grace his face back in his younger days.

“You do realize I’m never letting you slip out of my grasp again, Gabe.”

“And you should realize that this shouldn’t continue. Talon isn’t a force to be reckoned with. I don’t want to put you in that kind of danger.”

“Yeah well, let me decide whether or not I want to be in that danger for myself. I can’t let you go again. Can you really so easily let me go?”

Jack could feel a sigh heave out of his lover’s body, and that only confirmed his suspicions and warmed his heart.

“Thought so. We’re both dead men walking for our own reasons, so what’s a little more added danger to make life a little more tolerable again?”

“We’ll talk about this in the morning. Sleep, Jack.”

So there was hope. Hope that maybe, things really didn’t have to be this way after all. Because after all that they’ve both been through together and suffered in their recent years, even the smallest bit of happiness before they were finally, once and for all, sent to their graves, was what they deserved. Jack couldn’t speak on behalf of Gabriel, but he never stopped loving him. Talon and the rest of the world be damned, because this is right where he wanted to be.


End file.
